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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539826">What Lovers Do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltadanvers/pseuds/deltadanvers'>deltadanvers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:33:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltadanvers/pseuds/deltadanvers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>this is a long running story about a bartender and cop!AU avengers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Lovers Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i started writing this a few years ago before I had appropriately educated myself on the modern police establishment. i fully stand behind defunding and dismantling the police force and rebuilding a system to actually benefit all people from the ashes of the police establishment. that being said, turning a team of superheroes into a police precinct is really easy and i am going to post it and keep writing. if you are in any way uncomfortable with police, please feel free to pass this by and read some of my other stuff as this is the only series that has any police affiliation. Black lives matter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was the fourth time this week that the blonde man had settled in for the night on a barstool. He had come in often enough prior to this week that you’d become relatively familiar with him. This week was different though. Usually he was a social drinker, little here, little there. Nothing more than he thought he could handle. But this week seemed like he was drinking to make an impact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tended towards being one of your preferred customers. He was aware of the way other bar patrons treated you and he seemed to make an effort to be kinder than they were. He verged on flirty at times but most of the time he seemed genuinely inquisitive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few times he had been in, he had seemed almost lost at the idea of a female bartender but as the two of you developed a friendship in the way only a bar patron and bartender could, he warmed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around the group of people he usually came to the bar with, he was clear in his intentions; keep everyone on their feet; don’t let anyone wander off. Acting like he was a 6ft tall sheepdog or something. Lately he’d been coming in alone. It didn’t bother you much. His usual group was a little too rowdy for your tastes when you worked the bar alone, but they were good tippers and were generally as polite as a group of people intending to get drunk could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight he chose the barstool closest to the wall, not looking like he wanted company. It took you a minute to make your way to him, but he didn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four nights in a row. You trying to set a record?” you asked passively, pulling a glass off the shelf and setting it in front of him. He always ordered the same Knappogue malt whiskey. He lifted his head to look at you and gave you a weak smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were slightly red and he looked tired, the kind of tired you slowly amass over time when you’re in pain. You’d offered to let him sleep on the couch in the back room multiple times in the past but he always gave you the same half smirk and blinked slowly at you as if to say ‘I’m not at a bar to sleep, but thanks.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of you had talked until the bar closed multiple times. He always took a while to warm up to you, but he’d opened up to you more in the past few months than some partners you’d had in previous years. He definitely flirted with you more than some of your past partners had. Not that you'd thought about him like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Around 1:30 or so the past few nights, a man who you recognized as part of his normal group wandered in to collect your blonde patron and offer you that heartwarming gap toothed smile that he so willingly offered to anyone who interacted with him. He was easy to talk to and even easier to listen to. You’d gotten to know parts of him since his group started coming to the bar, but it was mostly just Steve who interacted with you in depth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the man with the longer brown hair would tag along to pick Steve up; you’d never caught his name but you were perpetually entranced by the meticulously crafted prosthetic arm he sported. He tended towards obscuring it and you had a feeling there was a story behind that, but you made sure to let him know that he had no reason to hide who he was when he was in your bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d resolved long ago that for as long as you worked at the bar, you’d put effort into creating a welcoming space for people to let loose. That included banning people who preyed on those who’d been drinking without a second thought. Anyone who walked into the bar agreed to give you their address after they ordered their 2nd drink if they didn’t have a designated driver. It made a lot of people think twice about drinking more, but the vast majority of people appreciated the effort to keep people safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, the man you’d come to know as Steve seemed more unravelled than usual. Like he could either pounce on someone or pass out. He was usually alert. Aware. Not tonight, it was like he was living in his own little haze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. I’m gonna go call a cab for the gentleman in the booth over there but I’ll be back in just a moment.” he offered you a soft nod as you turned to pull the phone off the hook and make the call you’d made innumerable times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, I’m the owner of the Howling Commando and I have a customer who needs a ride home” so on and so forth. Sometimes whoever was working at the cab dispatch would ask how your shift was going, or if they needed to send someone who was capable of carrying someone into their house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a little bit of dawdling and a tray of flowery drinks sent to a table full of giggling girls, you returned to the end of the bar where Steve was glaring at his drink. He seemed to have given up on drinking it and was just trying to make it spontaneously combust with his mind. You alerted him of your presence by sliding a bowl of pretzels toward him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna talk about what’s been bugging you?” you offer quietly, expecting a resounding no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth as if he was going to start talking but immediately shut it again and buried his face in his hands. The bar had quieted down enough that you could hear him groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The night’s still young; go home to your partner and try to make tonight better than the past few nights, yeah?” you tried in vain to get him to go home. You of course appreciated his company but it hurt you to see someone you’d come to feel like you knew intimately, hurting. And he was clearly hurting and all the while unwilling to ask for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t have anyone to go home to. Not anymore.” his tone was reminiscent of an older, more bitter man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure whatever you did to end put you in this funk wasn’t that bad. Y’can win her back I’m sure.” you offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure if she was still alive she still wouldn’t agree with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.” you felt like now was the right time to master the art of swallowing your entire fucking tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it. Sorry. That was shitty of me to put that on you.” his hands had slipped from his face into his hair as he tried to hold his head up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence settled between the two of you, only broken by a sudden burst of energetic peals of laughter from the fruity drink table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have someone to go home to? Can’t imagine someone like you going home to an empty house, but you’re always here.” he shifted and propped his head up in one hand and swirled his drink thoughtfully in the other. “That sounded much meaner than I intended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’alright. I knew what you meant and you’re not wrong. I am here a lot. But no, the only person I have to go home to is my cat and she usually stays out later than I do and just slips in the window at her earliest convenience.” his eyes were trained on you as you dried glasses and set them back on their respective shelves. “I love this place though. I don’t really have anything to complain about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you miss it though? Having someone to build a future with?” his eyebrows were furrowed. He didn’t usually lead the conversation. He could talk endlessly if you started him on the right subject. Sometimes he wasn’t in the mood to talk so you’d leave him to it after telling him an anecdote that would leave him smiling, but overwhelmingly, you led the conversations. Tonight he seemed to be pushing for something more than usual, maybe for validation or maybe he was just needing someone to rant to and he hadn’t found anyone more willing to listen than you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took pause and leaned against the bar and looked at him, trying to decipher his odd mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes.” you looked around the bar to see that everyone was absorbed in their own bubbles so you didn’t feel bad for pulling the stool that lived by the door to the back room, over to the space you’d been standing in, and sitting down. “I miss waking up next to someone who wants good things for me as badly as I want good things for them. I miss the feeling of always knowing who will accept excitedly when I ask if they wanna have sex.” you laughed at your own joke. Sure, most people you served at the bar would probably be willing to take you home, but there was safety and comfort in consistency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offered you another sleepy smile as if to say ‘your off color joke is funny but not funny enough to motivate my exhausted ass to laugh.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something undeniably magnetic about Steve. Whether it was the baritone quality of his voice that he never raised or the soft way the skin around his eyes would crinkle when he smiled genuinely about something. He was alluring and fascinating. Secretive just to the point of never revealing too much about his ‘top secret’ job or why he sometimes came into the bar looking like he’d just jumped out of a plane without a parachute, battered and bruised. And for the love of it all, why he and his friends chose this bar over all the others in the area was beyond you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could ask anyone in here and get an excited acceptance of a proposition like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone, huh?” You raised your eyebrows. He chuckled as you jokingly scanned the place to find a prospective bedmate. When you let the joke die a dignified death, he nodded decisively and stated “I can’t think of anyone who would say no. You thinkin’ of going home with a lucky someone tonight? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave here with anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” you let your gaze linger on his face for just a moment before you responded. “Maybe. Probably not, but it’s always a possibility I suppose. And you probably haven’t seen me leave with anyone. I try to keep my personal matters separate from this place. Can get kinda messy if you let the two mix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Messy can be good though, don’t you think?” he offered, venturing into new allusive conversational territory for the two of you. You hummed in agreement as the fruity drink group made their leave. That left 2 couples and 3 individuals in the bar aside from you and Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stood up and moved to the sink, pulling off your sweater to reveal a black camisole, picking up a rag and running it under hot water. If you stayed still and continued this vein of conversation with Steve for any longer, inquiring minds may butt in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to the same glass that he’d been nursing as you walked around the bar and made your way to the newly vacated table. You gathered up the glasses, stacked them on the tray, and placed them on a nearby table. You overheard one of the couples coming to the consensus that it was probably time to head home and went to wash off the table as they left cash on the table and left the bar, wrapped up in each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other couple left in the bar seemed to have made nice with two of the people who’d come in alone and the last person who’d come in alone was passed out draped over a booth as he waited for the cab to arrive. You could hear the four that had grouped together talking about heading to a new club that had opened in town. You secretly hoped they’d leave soon so you could close early</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focusing back on the task at hand, you folded the rag in your hand and went back to work scrubbing a sugary stain off the table nearest to the bar. You clocked Steve passively watching you from his stool. It was taking more effort to clean the table than it should have, but it didn’t really matter. No one was in dire need of service and you had all night to get the bar back to being clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how long have you worked here?” he pulled your attention back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Started here as a waitress when I was maybe 17? I told the old guy who owned this place that I was old enough to serve alcohol and that’s all he needed to hire me. Worked here as a waitress til he passed. Turns out he left it to me in his will. Now I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been saying you just work here all this time and you own this place? You shoulda corrected me.” he looked impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you didn’t seem like the kind of man to ask to speak to my manager and I only pull the ‘I own this bar’ card on those folks.” you smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. That card seems like it has the potential to be pretty hot if you pull it at the right time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, sir, are unusually bold today.” you turned to take a payment from one of the last customers in the bar that it seems had hit it off with the only other customer besides Steve that had come alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I wouldn’t be so bold if I weren’t sure you were interested.” he visibly recoiled at his own attempt at a pick up line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that as douchey out loud as I thought it would be? I knew as I was saying it that it sounded douchey but Jesus that takes the cake for the most dickish thing I’ve said in quite some time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely more douchey than you expected it to be.” you couldn’t help but smile at his self awareness. “You’re not wrong though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me being interested.” you offered quietly. Maybe it was an attempt to soothe his aching ego but it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” he slowly regained his footing from his shitty attempt at flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I let you get away with asking me if messy was good which I can only assume had something to do with.. Hmm.. first guess would be facials. Usually that’d be sleazy but it was kinda hot coming from you. So, yeah. Maybe I’m a little interested.” you nonchalantly leaned on the bar to lean on your arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll be damned. Sexy bartender’s got a mouth on her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Sexy.. Uh.. I don’t know what you do for a living. I can’t continue with this line of repartee without that information if you’re gonna call me the sexy bartender, I have to have something to work with here.” he chuckled at your admission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Police officer.” he set his glass down on the bar and propped his elbows on the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Damn. That doesn’t give me much to work with either. Sure you’re not a lumberjack or something like that? Car salesman? Lawyer?” he couldn’t retain his laughter this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I carry handcuffs for a living and you go for lumberjack instead?” his smile was warmer than you’d ever seen it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Real handcuffs hurt, man. It’s all about the tie or something soft like silk. Unyielding metal’s no fun when you’re going for making someone writhe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Car salesman though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t find fucking on the hood of a car no one can afford to be just the slightest bit enticing? Better than the alternatives which are breaking into a car dealership to do your business or conducting business in someone’s driveway. Both alternatives bring up far too many potential issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only potential issues? No moral issues there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Now you’re getting cop-y on me. I swear I’ll find me a lumberjack yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I own a chainsaw. Does that help my case?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Just makes you a little more serial killer-y.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Steven. I don’t want to fuck a serial killer. That seems like it should be a given, holy shit.” you scrunched your nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True Crime fans are weird, don’t blame me for vetting you before continuing our conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cop-y yet again. Regular people don’t vet other people. Is the reason you don’t have a girlfriend because you ask all potential romantic interests if they want to fuck Ted Bundy? Because this brings up a host of other problems. Like the fact that you are definitely being talked about on some anonymous discussion board online.” you pulled his glass off the bar and moved to rinse it in the sink. “I can see the header now… ‘My non lumberjack date asked me if I wanted to fuck John Wayne Gacy and I felt threatened’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this some sort of lumberjack dating site or is the fact that I am not a lumberjack somehow making it less likely that I would know about serial killers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the question at hand, Steven.” you lightly hit your hand on the bar as if to emphasize the importance of the subject at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your conversation was interrupted as a young woman approached the bar with her ticket in hand. You took her ticket and her card and started processing her payment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what… I’ll give you a 20% discount tonight if you tell me what you think this guy does for a living.” you gestured to Steve. The young woman looked a little caught off guard but shrugged and looked Steve over once before turning back to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lawyer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HA! I told you!” you turned back to Steve just in time to catch him rolling his eyes at you. “You just made my night, kiddo. Consider your drinks on me and have a great week.” you voided the transaction on the register and handed the young woman’s card back to her. She thanked you at length and you saw her on her way and locked the door after she made it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You picked up the last few glasses that had been left on tables and walked back to the bar to put them in the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not tryin’ to be presumptuous by locking the door, but it’s past what I have determined to be tonight’s last call and I don’t want anyone else coming in tonight.” Steve offered you a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t think it was presumptuous. I know how to unlock a door from the inside so I can leave anytime I want. It’s one of those skills they teach you in lumberjack school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. This is going to sound presumptuous but stick with me.” you flipped the switch under the bar and the lights went off except for the small lights that were strung around the bar. “How bout we go back to my place where there are burgers I made for the lunch rush in my fridge, waiting patiently to be eaten.” you untied the apron that you’d been wearing around your waist and set it on the countertop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like an acceptable way for this night to go.” You hummed in agreement as you walked around the bar to stand in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm I think I can think of a couple other acceptable ways this night could go.” you couldn’t believe the words you were saying as they came out of your mouth but you embraced it as you processed what you were actually saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?” a cocky smirk sat on his face as  he took a step closer to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you just gonna stand uncomfortably close to me for any sort of conversation to continue or are you gonna kiss me like any respectable man would?” his cologne was understated as you found yourself closer to him than you expected from tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno, I think we could probably stand a little closer together and still make our way through somethin-Nope just gonna kiss you.” he pulled his hands up from his side and let one find its place on your waist, pulling you closer to him, and the other hand went to the back of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god.” you whispered as he abandoned the ridiculous repartee and you let your eyes close easily as he pressed his lips to yours. One of your hands found its place tugging at the collar of his jacket and the other rested on the hand he had on your waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sparks went off in the back of your mind as he deepened the kiss and backed you carefully against the bar, seemingly having no issue moving both of his hands to your hips and hoisting you onto the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found a place easily between your legs as you sat on the bar. With a lot of hesitation, you pulled away from the kiss, biting his lip slightly as you pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too fast? ‘M sorry.” he started to pull away until you pulled him back by his jacket collar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, nothing like that. We can’t do this here, though. Not in the bar. We can go to my place and do this but we can’t do this here.” you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and then to the base of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So yes to the car showroom but no to the bar that you own?” he teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When health inspectors start inspecting show floor cars, I’ll revise the fantasy that will only ever live in my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far’s your place?” his hands trailed up and down your thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’upstairs.” he nodded and pressed his lips back to yours for just long enough that when he pulled away both of you were a little dazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna know where I live so please don’t kill me with your lumberjack chainsaw.” he chuckled as he followed you to the locked door down the hallway just past the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying you’re killing the mood, but the more you say those things the less time I have to think about just how hard I’m gonna make you cum and just how good handcuffs can be, gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah okay, I’m unlocking the door, keep it in your pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is one of the few times I really don’t think you mean what you just said.” he nuzzled his face against the side of your neck as he waited for you to finish unlocking the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a moment to jokingly contemplate his criticism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah you’re probably right.” you muttered as the door gave way and you found yourself spun around with your back against the wall and Steve pulling you back in for another kiss.</span>
</p>
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